


For a Fistful of Drabbles

by estepheia



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estepheia/pseuds/estepheia
Summary: Brief encounters, paths crossed, nothing fancy...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Spike (BtVS); Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	For a Fistful of Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paratti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paratti/gifts), [JaneDavitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/gifts).



> I wrote these Supernatural drabbles as advent calendar gifts for some of my lifejournal friends (several years ago), but somehow never archived them. Came across them again by accident and decided to finally archive them here. Enjoy.

**Hunting Trip** (Sam & Dean)

Every summer, when the other kids went off to summer camp to sit round campfires, roast marshmallows on sticks, and listen to ghost stories, we melted pawnbroker silver into bullets, and went hunting with Dad.

Every summer, Sammy’d yell at Dad, but after a day or two, he’d always chill, too good at hunting to not enjoy himself.

One summer, when several boys went missing, Dad sent us to camp. We told ghost stories and roasted marshmallows. We also hunted down the vengeful spirit of a bullied boy, and salted and roasted his bones.

Sam never mentioned summer camp again.

**Car trouble** (Spike)

There’s no point in stealing one of the newer cars; most have immobilizers these days. ‘Sides, Spike wouldn’t want to be seen dead in a Toyota. But that black 1967 Chevy Impala? Now that’s Spike’s kind of car. Almost as good as his Desoto. And a decent-sized trunk never hurts.

Stripped wires spark and the Impala rumbles to life. With a two-fingered salute, Spike speeds away from the diner’s parking lot.

A few miles down the road, he checks the trunk: rock salt, crosses, silver bullets?

Balls.

A minute later, he’s roaring back to the diner. He’ll try the Toyota.

**My Beautiful Laundromat** (Spike/Dean)

He knows it’s been too long, when he gets hard just from watching another bloke stuff his undies into a washer. Bloke’s not even tall, dark, and hunksome, just eye candy with a nice ass.

Spike untangles the wet black lump of tees and pants to feed the dryer, when suddenly his skin crawls. He turns, ready to meet a come-hither-grin with a leer of his own, only to realize: Man’s got the air of a hunter: wary, focused. And Spike just turned prey.

Reason enough to split, wet tees or no. Only… hunter-boy’s got the eyes of a lover….


End file.
